Done, Or Are My Nerves Burnt Yet?

Boy, are these elections fun! Everywhere you turn, some one has an answer to why things aren't working and who is to blame. It's the Repug's or Rebublicans say one side. It's the Dems say the other. I don't see the election solving or ending the WhineFest either. When will we have a leader step up and do their job instead of pandering to polls. How about a leader as described in Psalm 23?

I'd like a little smoked cheddar with mine, please.

Where are the Breaks, Or Who forgot the Brakes?

Maureen and I spent last night at another football game. The Selma Bears visited our bend in the road for what was touted as a great contest between undefeated league opponents led by two outstanding senior running backs. The game lived up to its billing and the Monarchs won 62-28. I know the score doesn't seem like a great game, but the halftime score was 31-28. After the game a Fresno TV station wanted to interview the Exeter running back, Cameron Loeffler. Cameron wouldn't until the offensive line joined him in front of the camera. Class act from a humble teenager. Too bad we don't see that in more adults.




I've been thinking about my material possessions a bit lately. Maureen and I started a year long fast if you will on new clothing and goods from China. I did a almost week-long fast in college. After a few days I found that my body wasn't hungry, but my eyes and brain said I was. I have seemingly reached a similar point with our commitment. I look, but know I cannot buy. Fortunately no temptation has overtaken me yet.

Also in college I picked up a weird habit. I was a stereotypical poor college student. I lived on about $200 a month, which even in the late Seventies wasn't very much. I picked up the habit of spending Friday afternoon walking the Chico downtown window shopping. I eventually formed a routine of stores I enjoyed strolling through, looking at their wares, but not buying. I had little or no money to spend if I wanted to eat the rest of the month. Occasionally a used record or a used shirt at the Salvation Army or Gates Resale, but nothing big. I would sometimes meet some friends and we would have a cheap dinner or go watch the Eight Avenue String Band. This cultivated in me the skill of knowing what I needed versus what I wanted. I still had the want desire inside because I always had an internal list of things I would buy when I graduated and got a real job.

And after college, I did satisfy some of those desires. But it wasn't as fulfilling as I once thought it would be. I still in the back of my mind said, "I don't need that even though I can buy it." People became more important.

All of this has been composting in my mind and I've been thinking about how I value my wants and needs. The No New Clothes-No China commitment hasn't been hard, yet. I'm thinking it may not be too hard given the experiences that went into my brain compost. But I am also aware that I need to be wary of my hubris.

All that compost also produced some thoughts about the Housing/Mortgage/Bailout this country is dealing with. Doesn't the expensive housing situation seem like another situation where a need, housing, gets twisted into something it isn't, an investment. Instead of buying shelter for shelter's sake, we buy a lifestyle or buy our self-esteem. Similar to transportation. Do we need a SUV, or do we need a Corolla? Or do we need to walk or to bike?

Are we confusing our wants with our needs?

Not the Bank of My America

Yesterday Maureen and I were in the Bank of America, our former bank, to close an account. The people at our local branch are some of the nicest people we know, but we no longer bank there because of some seemingly predatory fee systems that appear more interested in exacting money from their clients than providing a service to the clients.

Recently the B of A changed their corporate logo, colors, image at a huge cost I'm sure. Gone is the predominate blue scheme replaced with a red scheme. But another change caught my eye and disturbs me on more than one level. As we walked in I noticed a large flat screen TV on a wall neat the door. HGTV happened to be on at the time. Since we disconnected from the satellite IV this summer I haven't watched this channel, one of our former favorites. We talked to nice person at a desk who directed us to a teller that would help us sever our connection to the B of A. As we stood in line at the teller's counter, I continued to watch HGTV intermittently.

Then it hit me. I was watching the TV not on the big screen I had initially noticed, but on one of three smaller monitors over the counter. Why? Doesn't anyone ask this question any more? Are we as Americans so short sighted and attention deficit that we can't stand in line for a few minutes and not have to be entertained? What is wrong with our own thoughts? Or do we have no thoughts?

What hit me after that verified our decision to leave the B of A; who paid for those TV's? Not the company. Not the shareholders. It was the clients.

This is not a bank of My America.

To Know When No is the Right Answer

A blogger that I read regularly, Wendy Melchior, posted today about her sons baseball game. She asked the following question: "Why is it hard to lose?" Below is my response. Not because I have the answer, but because I have a way that works for me.

"Why is it hard to lose?" Because you then become a Loser. Our society today doesn't tolerate losing or mediocrity. We have become a mean society and sports is the place much of this anger is displayed. Because it's acceptable to yell at sporting events. So you now get yelling, or coaching that is unacceptable because that person or coach doesn't want to feel like a loser. Some never learn that some days you will lose the game but that doesn't make you a loser. They think "I lose, therefore, I am a Loser." They didn't learn, as I did from a wise baseball man, that you win 60, you lose 60 and it's the other 42 that decide how good you are at baseball. Not at life. Your beloved Phillies won 92 games this year, and my beloved Jamie Moyer was credited with 16 of those wins. That means they are in the playoffs. That also means they lost 70 games. Do those 70 games matter to them now? I'd bet even the loss last night doesn't matter much to them, because they get to play tonight, and that is on their minds. That same wise baseball man also taught me that the most important thing in a baseball game is the next pitch. After it is thrown, it is ancient history. Good baseball players have short memories. Unfortunately most people do not. So you end up with a coaching staff coaching their team of 11 year-olds about winning and not about baseball. If you worry about playing baseball, the winning and losing will take care of itself. Kind of like life. If you take care of living as Christ-like as you can, life takes care of itself.

Steve in Central CA

P.S. I'll explain about Jamie Moyer another time.

I've been thinking about this after I responded. How do we end up where we are today? Isn't it as much our failures as our successes that mold us? Failure is underrated. Is it healthy if we grow up thinking everything we do is wonderful? Shouldn't we learn that some of what we do is average and some less than average? I can change your brake pads, but don't ask me about anything electrical in a car. That is why I go to an auto mechanic. He is above average in cars and trucks. I am average at best. That doesn't make me a bad person, just a bad mechanic.

Maybe No is the correct answer some times.


P.P.S. Jamie Moyer is a 45, almost 46, year old man still playing baseball. His fastball can't break a pane of glass, but he is successful. He is playing his 22nd year of major league baseball. He can teach us all things. His failure last night is a blip on his radar.

Is Landscaping Really That Important? Or Should You Look at Different Landscape.

The semi-local paper the Visalia Times-Delta has a feature each Saturday in their local section called "Fix It." There have been some real problems that have been fixed I'm sure, but lately the column has turned into a whine fest. Today's entry is that the city or Cal-Trans or someone should clean up the Highway 198 median, "especially portion from Woodland Street overpass west. Mr. Ernie Reyes of Visalia can't understand why officials can't keep the median clean and landscaped appropriately in west Visalia."

Well, Mr. Reyes and other concerned citizens, why don't YOU go clean it up? I think given the conditions of the county (county employees striking), the state (budget shortfall) and the nation (Need I say anything here?) that WE have more important things to worry about than landscaping.

After reading Kent's wonderful story about adventure, I've been thinking again about my life and the direction it's going. Not that I see major changes, but how can I get more difference out of what I spent my hours doing. I like what I do, I love my family, but I want to get to the point that I examine the world around closely. On a daily basis.

Is the Cupbord Really that Bare?

Meditations on America While Searching for Candles

Yesterday after Annie's soccer game, I was helping Maureen help her mother decorate for a church guild luncheon. Maureen and Annie go to this annual event and it is usually a great family ladies time. They decorate the hall and each group decorates their table in a theme. There is a silent auction and a great time for all. The theme this year for the table was kind of like an elegant Munsters. In the middle of arranging the arrangements, it was decided black tapered candles were needed. And so began my descent into America.

Now, I am no white bread elitist. I teach high school freshmen and I have had many things seared into my brain that I wish I could erase. This quest for candles filled me with so much anthropological evidence I felt like Indiana Jones. I think I hit the entire food chain of craft stores and All Hallows Eve seasonal stores in Visalia in search of this not-so-holy-grail.

I started at Michael's, a national craft chain, then to JoAnn's, a regional chain. Once I figured out where the candle aisle was, I then had to plow through all the scented and unscented, the oils and votives, and ultimately no black tapers. These stores reminded me of a supermarket, as designed by Madison Avenue marketing psychologists, where everything is laid out to maximize customer exposure to as many items on the shelves as possible.

While at one of these I saw a friend that suggested the party stores and as I was talking to her, the line of women waiting to check out started with other suggestions. Every time I go into craft stores, I am amazed at the helpfulness of women. You would never find that at a home improvement store from men. You get a grunt and a head nod in a direction if you are lucky, but then most of us men would never ask for directions to anything, especially in the world of lumber and tools.

The first party store was like a Walmart on LSD and sugar. And that was the adults. Lines everywhere, no help in sight, bright colors flashing, and no tapers. Before I could get out of the store I was assaulted visually by the costumes. There seems to be only three types of costumes. Characters from the latest children's movie/cartoon, demons/horror creatures of various kinds, or nurses and chamber maids. Before Sponge Bob could get any more of my time, I was out of the party store.

And onto a type of store that has only sprung up in the last decade. They call themselves by names that either describe their price tags or the size of their product. Dollar 'n Penny Store, or JumboGroups, or Gemme All Your Change & U Getta Pile'OCrap. Walmart looks like Neiman-Marcus compared to these places. Given the social challenge Maureen and I recently undertook, I didn't give myself much chance of finding any candles here made other than in China. I was wrong--Made in U.S.A.--right on the label, but no black tapers. What I did find though was an American archetype that I had never seen before. As I was wandering the second store looking for the candle section, I happened to end up coincidentally following a couple trolling. The lady was pushing the cart and the man had one hand on the front of the cart pulling. It reminded me of a couple fishing in an old Grumman aluminum boat. The type of small boat many people start with that is light, and fits half in the bed and half on the roof of a pickup. The troller in the back steering the small outboard engine and the one in front dangling his pole over the side. Put-put-put through the aisles of Gemme All Your Change & U Getta Pile'OCrap looking for something to buy. Because it was cheap. That's why they were there. I cruised along for two aisles listening to them discuss the merits of various cheap plastic and soft metal gadgets. When I finally found the candles, between car battery accessories and deodorant, they were there discussing whether this candle or that one would mask the smell of multiple cats. I scampered out of the store with a sinking feeling in my belly.

I trolled, was I really any different than the other shoppers, on to the "Spirit" store. This is a season-only emporium of the Halloween extravaganza the happens only in the US of A. I hope. This store had less variety than the previous party type store. They limited themselves to costumes for cheap YouTube horror films or porno movies you find at the flea market. I was alternately repulsed by teenagers trying on the latest gothic horror slasher costume and saddened by mothers dressing their 7 year old daughters as hooker hoochee mamas.

What have we become that we can't see what we are valuing with our money? Don't we have self control? Don't we have a sense of what it costs to earn what we purchase? And I mean all costs. I work tormenting the youth of my small town as a teacher. The money I earn gets spent, all of it. I'd like to think I try to get value in exchange for the money I spend. I think about how I spend and where the money goes that I spend. I try to vote with my money as some would say. Go to places I want to stay around and avoid those I don't.

That is why I am bothered by the Bailout. Who are we valuing with my money and yours?

Maybe I'm Looking at the Wrong End of the Horse?

Maureen and I have made a commitment for the following year. Or as she says so insightfully, we should be committed. I tend to like these social experiments as I call them. Maureen proposed this one and it seems like it would be a fun way to better understand myself, my family and the world we inhabit.

Simply stated:
1--We will buy no new clothing for one calendar year.
2--We will not purchase anything made in China.
--Exceptions:
--If we find something we that we use quite a bit, and it is at least 75% off, that is fair game for purchase.
--If something needs to be replaced, used clothing is fair also. Used is the key here.
--If we truly need something and China is the only place it is made, then we may buy it.

We both know the second resolution is going to be the most difficult of the two. I already know that as a baseball coach, I have to buy from China. I have been looking at the baseballs we use. Two of the brands we use are made in China. Our governing section specifies one model of ball for the playoffs; I'm sure it is made in China like the other two I've checked out. This will take work. But I am committed to carry this commitment over into my business (baseball) and not just my personal life.

The clothing commitment on the surface doesn't seem difficult, but I'm sure something will happen this year to make it a challenge. I have been wearing recycled/used/reclaimed clothing for years. I have toyed with the idea of buying four or five sets of the same clothing. No choices about what to wear in the morning, just put the clothes on. I read somewhere Stanley Kubrick or another British actor/director did that, but not as an experiment. Just simplifying life. An artist in Seattle did this in the Brown Dress Project. (Thank you, Nancy.) I haven't read this yet, but will at another time.

This will be fun.

We Got a Rope, We got a Tree...

I don't think it will be a referee that people will be looking for if the "bailout" passes Congress.




No temptation has overtaken you but such is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, that you may endure it.
1 Corinthians 10:13


What happens when we as humans do not resist temptation? Most of the time not much. Hand in the cookie jar, mom or dad slap your wrist, and after a few minutes the pain goes away. You think , maybe this wasn't so bad after all. (I still live next to the Cleavers on Maple Drive in Mayfield at times.) But what moral upbringing would train a person to seek one temptation after another with no regard for the consequences? Did someone steal from the cookie jar as a child and have their parents slap the neighbor's wrist?

Does the lust for power (politicians) and money (Wall Street) give them the illusion that temptations can't effect them? Or that the consequences don't apply to them?

Me thinks that the result of this will not be a slap on the wrist, but a slap that sends us reeling across the room, our house and the town where we live.